Red Creek

The innocence of children is a godliness that wanes with time, and as long as you live, it will never be found again—the Book of the Divine, The Sacral Compendium.

The wagon rolled to a stop outside the squat hovel, a log cabin with a thatched roof. Maro’s heart sank in his gut, not at the home, but what surrounded it.

Soldiers in black coats had taken over the residence, and by Maro’s estimation, a platoon’s worth congregated here, thirty men, give or take.

Don’t forget the asshole in charge.

He sighed, glancing around for anyone not in uniform, any who could be Maribel’s aunt and uncle, but he didn’t spot them. He climbed down to stretch his legs, and he swayed once he reached the solid, unmoving ground. His ass had grown quite numb over the course of the five days it took to get Maribel here.

I can’t believe I brought her all the way out here for this!

The rickety door to the house squeaked open, and the asshole in charge came out in the soft, early morning light. His dazzling insignia marked him as a lieutenant, and a musket lay in his arms. Lines creased his face like cracked leather, and he looked just as hard. Of course, the frontier made folk that way, but fighting out here seemed to weather people like petrified wood. Maro hoped he wouldn’t look so worn when he reached that age. Despite looking so weathered, the officer had a clean-shaven face.

The senior asshole stopped half a dozen paces away. “Help you, stranger?”

“Maybe,” Maro said. “I’ve got terrible news for the residents of this …” he searched for an appropriate word, “…house.”

He wanted to say squalor or shit hole. It probably wouldn’t go over well.

The man nodded once. “Hate to say this, friend, but no one lives here. I’m Lieutenant Harris.”

Maro frowned at the news. “What do you mean? I thought Deral and Ethel lived here.” Maribel knew little about her aunt and uncle, but she’d known their names.

The lieutenant cocked his head to the side. “They might’ve, once upon a time; ain’t been anyone here in these parts for the better part of eight months. Some of the town’s folk said they died. What do you need them for?”

Maro grunted, his lips forming a grumbling line. “Shit.”

The officer took a slow step forward. “I asked why you’re seeking them, stranger?”

Maro sighed. “I came to deliver bad news. Ethel’s sister, and her husband, died in a fire in Tepress almost two weeks ago.”

“Damn,” Harris said, “that’s a shame. And you said you came all the way from Tepress to deliver the news? Long way.”

A sinking feeling nestled in Maro’s gut, what the lieutenant hinted at, Maro being a criminal, perhaps coming to rob the place.

“They had a daughter, too.” Maro glanced around the property, getting the measure of the soldiers. Most were hard at work clearing debris and garbage, but some were watching the exchange. “She’s alive, and I brought her to come live with them.”

“Their daughter?”

Maro nodded.

“Out of the kindness of your heart?”

Maro sensed the shifting ground beneath his feet. The lieutenant didn’t believe his story, but what could he say to assuage the man’s suspicions?

“No, I got paid by the Bounty Hunter’s Guild in Tepress. The banker Avardi cleared the funds.”

“A bounty hunter, you say? Mind if I see your chit to verify?”

Shit, this asshole keeps pushing…

Maro patted his coat as if searching for it. He was about to say he must’ve lost it when he remembered Peredur’s chit. He fished it out of his right pant’s pocket and produced it.

“Peredur?” Harris asked.

“Yup.”

“Where’s the girl, Peredur?”

Maro jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Sleeping in the back.” He waved the officer closer. “Come on, I’ll show you. Just don’t wake the beast. I only got her to shut up a few hours ago.”

Maro moved to the back, next to a tethered Bastard. He gave the horse a soothing pat, then rubbed his nose.

Harris glanced inside the wagon, seeing Maribel asleep against the two trunks. The little puppy she dragged with her lay curled up beside her.

“Damn,” the military man said, his voice held a touch of awe. “I didn’t think you were telling the truth. I’ve never heard of a bounty hunter escorting little girls home.”

Maro grunted. “First time for everything.”

“What’s in the trunks?”

Maro shrugged. “The remains of her possessions, I suppose. I don’t ask questions, don’t get into stuff that’s not mine. They told me to deliver her, so that’s what I’m doing.”

“Just following orders?”

The bounty hunter nodded, suppressing the groan rising within him. “Yeah.”

“Good man.” Harris took a few slow steps back towards the house. “As I’ve said, if any people were out here, they’re long dead. We’ve been fighting out here for over a year, so outlaws might’ve gotten them, enemy combatants, or caught in the crossfire.”

Maro grunted.

“What will you do with her?”

Maro glanced back the way he came, in the direction where Tepress lay. Then, he turned to the town still a few miles off, barely making out the buildings in the decrease in elevation.

“Well,” Maro drawled out, “I reckon I’ll go into the guild house and find out what they want me to do.”

“I think that’s smart.” Harris took another step back. “Be sure to stick to the roads. It ain’t safe out here.”

“Will do.”

Harris turned to the house and retreated inside while Maro climbed into the wagon.

Well, now what the hell am I supposed to do?

He plucked up the reins and slapped the rump of the horses with it. They lurched into motion, and Maro heard Maribel’s waking grunt. A few moments later, he felt her head pop up.

“Where are we?”

“That,” Maro said, glancing back at the receding house, “was your aunt and uncle’s place. You remember them?”

Maribel climbed out of the back to sit beside him. “No.”

“Well, according to the army officer, they don’t live there no more.”

“Where do they live?”

By the Autarch, how am I supposed to tell her? Hadn’t she suffered enough? First losing her parents and home, getting taken on the trail…

“Oh,” she said into the quietness between them.

Way to go, Maro, don’t say shit and let her draw her own conclusions.

“Where are we going now?” she asked.

“Red Creek.”

“What’s there?”

“Not a damn thing, kid, not a damn thing.”

“Then, why are we going?”

“Cause there’s a bounty hunter guild; maybe they might know what to do with you.”

“Avardi said if I didn’t have any family, he’d send me to one of the Houses of the gods.”

Maro glanced at her. “He say that, did he? Was he nice to you?”

Maribel moved her head from side to side. “He wasn’t unkind.”

“Semantics.”

“What’s that mean? Semantics?”

Maro shrugged.

“Well, why’d you use the word?”

He grunted.

“That’s silly.”

“You know what game I want to play?”

“The one where I stop talking again?”

He dipped his head in a nod.

“That’s a boring game. So, what are we going to do?”

Maro sighed. “Stop at the guild and see what’s what.”

“What?”

“Huh?”

“What’s what?”

“What?”

“I don’t know, you just said what’s what. What does that mean?”

“Oh.”

He took in a deep breath through the nose and exhaled it twice as slow. For a brief time during their trip to Red Creek, he thought about offering Maribel a chance to go out on the trail with him. This lastest exchange, one of many over the last five days, proved another damn reason he wouldn’t extend her the offer.

He searched for the correct words. “It means we’ll see what’s going on, the options, and make the best decision.” Maro turned his head, checking Bastard’s tether.

“Oh, so that’s what.”

He grunted.

Maribel grew silent, which allowed Maro time to think. She was probably right. Going to whichever House of the gods she belonged to was her best option. She’d be clothed, fed, given education. Sure, she’d have to work for it, but there were worse fates.

Maro let his eyes roam over the two chests in the back of the wagon. When Harris had asked about them, Maro panicked. He hadn’t lied to the officer—it was the remains of Maribel’s, her cut, after all her pain and suffering.

By the time he and Maribel left the ranch house, he already decided what he’d do with everything he procured from the gang. Most of the horses, he turned loose, but not before wrangling eight to pull the load, an overkill, but it’d be for the uncle and his wife to use as they saw fit. Now, he didn’t have anyone to give the beasts to.

From the chest of money he buried, he took out three laden pouches for himself, and a fistful more for his pocket during their trek. The rest went with the girl, a parting gift for everything she endured. It’d help provide for her for years, and if frugal enough when she got older, perhaps for the rest of her life. A single coin purse would be more than Maro had ever seen, so three would let him select his profession with care. Besides, it totalled more than he made in five years with the army.

More than enough.

The weapons he divvied between the two trunks, one for him, the other for the uncle. Maro took the musket-pistols and left the rifles to him. He’d need it more out in the country, but alas, no uncle. Maro supposed he’d take the rifles back, sell them to the Bounty Hunter’s guild in Tepress. Or he could stay in Red Creek, make a life and a name for himself out in the wilderness. If feeling generous, he could let Maribel live with him.

Nope.

“You should live here,” Maribel said, as if she read his thoughts.

“Ain’t a chance in hell, kid.”

“Why? What’s wrong with Red Creek?”

“It’s in the ass-end of nowhere, that’s why. The only people out here are the explorers, the impoverished—”

“What’s impoverished?”

“Poor. Anyway, explorers, the poor, or the ones cursed by the gods, cause if any of them were noble, they wouldn’t make anyone live here.”

Maribel laughed. “You’re funny.”

He glanced at her. “You’re pretty funny, too.”

“I am?”

He nodded. “Yeah, you smell pretty funny. You need a bath.”

She giggled as the wagon moseyed down the path to Red Creek.